


The stories that must be packaged away

by amorphic



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning, but can hypothetically happen in a playthrough of the game, just in case, mature tag is there for descriptions of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:28:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24941581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amorphic/pseuds/amorphic
Summary: Compared to her sisters, Catria didn't think of herself as anyone special. Est always did as she pleased, and Palla always made the plans, and Catria always seemed to be following them.But then Est was kidnapped by pirates, and Palla fell in battle, and so Catria was left alone in Valentia, having to plan her own future in her own way.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	The stories that must be packaged away

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this three years ago and never ended up doing anything with it. Well, here it is.

She had lost track of the number of days since she arrived in Zofia Harbor. It felt like an eternity, although she reasoned that it must not have been more than a few weeks. 

At first, she was painfully aware of how much she stood out, even in a harbor bustling with travelers. She had her pegasus, a rare breed on this continent. Her armor, markedly crafted in a different style than the kind she saw donned on the soldiers and mercenaries here. And, every time she opened her mouth, her accent, which marked her as being obviously foreign, obviously out of place.

She found it remarkable, all things considering, how quickly she’d gotten used to this. How quickly this place grew to welcome her. But though she’d lived here near a season, it wasn’t home. It could not be home. She was here for a specific purpose, the same purpose she had had for the countless days since she started living in the harbor. 

Whenever she met an unfamiliar face, she always asked them the same question. “Do you know of a man named Grieth?” A silly question. Everyone knew of Grieth. She only hoped for something new. If his men showed up somewhere. If he left his fortress. If, by some miracle, he was defeated. But Grieth’s stronghold in the desert remained impenetrable as ever. 

By now, she no longer had to ask to receive those answers. The townspeople knew all they needed to know about Catria the White, the visitor from a distant land. She was here because of Grieth, she would disappear only when he did as well.

She visited the local taverns, to ask if any mercenaries have stopped by port for the even. With Zofia’s bandit problem and the ongoing war in the West, demand for sellswords was high, and there was often a young man or two hanging out at the tavern waiting to be hired. She could recognize mercenaries on sight now. They often wore mismatched armor cobbled together from old uniforms and pieces paid from their earnings, they carried their swords with them to the shops as if hanging a sign on themselves advertising their services. The youngest ones were but boys, younger than even her kid sister. 

Most of the mercenaries grimaced upon hearing Grieth’s name. Give it up, they said. You need an army, they said, and Zofia’s army ain’t gonna help you. She had gotten used to the one, burning question they all ask. You ain’t even from Valentia, why you care so much about Grieth?

She didn’t much like telling stories, but this was a story she could tell. The locals must’ve heard it so many times by now, but all the new faces wouldn’t know. She’d told the story enough times by now that the words flowed like water.

Why did she care so much about Grieth? Because he took her sisters away from her, she says. Sisters, plural. 

Est, the youngest, who always did as she pleased, damned the consequences, who always lit up her life even though she would never admit it. Palla, the eldest, who acted like a mother to her, who was always reliable and strong and full of warmth. 

Without them, there was no longer a place Catria could consider home.

#

Catria never admitted it, but her first reaction upon learning that Est had been kidnapped by pirates was one of panic. She had barely gotten used to the fact that Est had retired from the army, and now there was the possibility that Est could be gone forever.

That panic never showed on her face, but it numbed her. And so, she decided to think about everything else. She held fast onto her reputation as a steady, serious person. She focused deeply on her duties as a Whitewing, and redoubled her efforts on rebuilding the Macedonian villages still recovering from the War of Shadows. Every moment she carried on her daily business was a moment that Est could have been suffering in captivity, but if her mind drifted in that direction she feared that she would break apart.

It was Palla who calmed her down, who made a plan, like she always did. It was Palla who decided to retrace Est’s last known steps, who found the town where Est had been taken, who learned that the pirates had already departed for Valentia.

And then, it was Palla who arranged the ship to bring Catria and herself to Zofia Harbor in hot pursuit. Palla had the plans, and Catria followed them, and followed her. 

Catria wasn’t sure how she did it. The days they spent in Valentia together were like a blur, but Palla always had an agenda. Question these people this day, fly out to another village another day, and soon she seemed to have all the answers that Catria wanted. Where to go, who to meet...who their target was. The bandit captain Grieth. 

Catria’s panic gradually, intermittently, gave way to hope. She knew that Est had to be here, somewhere in Valentia, almost certainly in Zofia. She had her pegasus, and her talent as a soldier, to the point that the local bandits had more or less kept their distance. And she had Palla, her reliable older sister, with her there in the harbor. 

“Don’t worry, Catria. We’ll find Est and go home together.”

Palla was like that. Even though she must’ve been terribly worried about Est, she was always trying to reassure Catria as well. Palla spent her nights at the Zofian Harbor Inn compiling her notes on Valentia and on the pirates, planning out the days to come, yet she still took time always to ask Catria if she was alright. If it was okay for her to be in Valentia, or if her pegasus was healthy, all the little questions. Every time, all Catria could say was ‘yes’. She was okay, despite the oft-recurring panic. Compared to Est, of course she was okay. Perhaps even compared to Palla, who was slaving away at the hard work of acting as commander. The least Catria could do was to support her older sister in the hopes of rescuing their younger sister.

So when Palla said that she’d discovered the location of one of Grieth’s bases off the coast of Zofia, and told Catria that she wanted to scout it out to see if Est was being held there, Catria of course followed her. 

“Are you sure, Catria? It will be dangerous.”

“All the more reason for me to go,” was Catria’s reply. “Should we hire some mercenaries to go with us? In case?”

Palla shook her head no. It would slow them down too much, she explained. With their pegasi, they could easily investigate from the air and return to the harbor by end of day. Traveling with mercenaries would force them to make the trip on foot. 

“I worry that Est’s situation will worsen the longer we wait,” Palla said. “So it’s best if we move out as quickly as possible.”

Catria nodded. It was just the two of them. No Commander Minerva to cover their back. No army to support them. But Catria was used to the fear of battle, and Palla would be there, and this was all for Est’s sake. There was no reason to hesitate.

The scouting went awry. 

They were discovered, Catria wasn’t sure whether it was her fault or Palla’s, but it didn’t matter. Catria realized very quickly that it would’ve been absolutely impossible for them not to be discovered.

There were more pirates than anyone could have reasonably expected. It wasn’t right to call them a group, Catria thought. This was more like an army. A poorly-trained and terribly disciplined army, but a veritable army of men nonetheless. Palla called for a retreat, and the two of them left the pirate base behind without achieving their goal.

Catria wasn’t sure what happened next. She focused exclusively on keeping up with Palla as they flew along the coast, back in the direction of the harbor. She remembered the frustration of flying, the desperation of escape. A pegasus could only fly for so long before becoming weary, and Catria remembered pushing that poor creature to its upper limit, and that Palla had begun to slow as well. There was no helping it. The coast was mountainous, and even pegasi had trouble flying over mountains, and the pegasi were completely exhausted.

If there was one mistake that they had made, it was assuming that Grieth only had one fortress along the coast. Was it just a result of awful luck, or had the bandit captain sprung a trap on them? Either way, they were attacked by a second group of pirates on their way back to the harbor, and this time they had no choice but to fight.

Catria remembered the fear. It had been many days since she had to seriously wield a lance, and the enemy seemed far too numerous for two people to defeat, let alone survive. But she looked at Palla’s face, which only had disgust and determination written on it. “Catria. Keep your wits about you, and don’t leave my side.”

The tone of voice made it clear that that was an order as Catria’s superior, not a warning as a sister. Catria had her doubts, like she always had her doubts, but they had no place worming their way into her brain. 

She realized very quickly that she had underestimated the pirates. Individually, they were no match for even an average trained soldier, let alone a Whitewing. They were mostly axemen who swung their axes as if they were toys, a few archers in the back who clearly couldn’t aim a bow to save their lives. But they had sheer numbers on their side, and as one man screamed and ran away, two more would join the fray. Her doubts only grew as the pirates came closer, until they threatened to swallow her whole.

In hindsight, she wondered if Palla knew how bleak the situation had become, if Palla had realized even sooner than Catria had. But if Palla had any doubts, she never showed them, and charged ahead, her lance flashing bloody trails within the sky. All Catria had to do was to stay by Palla’s side, and defend her back. Let the years of training and army service guide her lance and her heart.

And then, a scream. Not the cries of wounded pirates, a scream too high and too familiar and unfamiliar for that. A scream she had only ever imagined in her nightmares.

“Palla!” Catria echoed the scream, and frantically looked around to find its source.

She turned just in time to see her sister crumple, the green of her armor stained dark red. An arrow, fired so perfectly as to slip into a gap in her armor, the kind of shot that could only be made with pure luck in the chaos of this kind of battle. The panic that graced Palla’s face was the kind that told Catria that she was no longer in control.

“PALLA!”

Palla fell, from a wound that could’ve only been inflicted because of a miracle.

Catria did not see Palla’s body hitting the ground, nor did she hear the sickening sounds of bones against hard rock. She didn’t know if that was a torture or a mercy. Maybe she wouldn’t even have noticed, had Palla not screamed. This was battle, and the sights and sounds of blood and death were always in the air. Her training gave her no room to panic or to worry, not while the enemy still stood right in front of her.

A miracle happened for the second time that day. Thunder roared in the distance, followed immediately by the terrified screams of the pirates. The sound of fire raging, of reality bending and groaning horribly at the cracks. It was a little different from what she was used to, but she could still recognize the sound of magic.

In the distance, she saw strangers in robes and armor, rushing forward to meet the pirates. Led by a priestess in white. There was something familiar about her, too.

The pirates scattered and turned to their new enemy, leaving Catria alone to catch her breath. A warmth overtook her, and she quickly recognized it as healing magic. A moment’s respite, enough for her to regain her bearings, to collect her thoughts. And for that split second, Catria was no longer in the heat of battle, and so permit herself to let her thoughts wash over her.

Palla. 

Catria flew down to where she remembered last seeing her sister. A foolhardy move, one that brought her closer to the mass of pirates and mages killing each other, but she didn’t care right now. When in combat, there was always the possibility, no, the inevitability, of losing allies. She’d felt that pain so often over the previous war. It wasn’t a reason to lose your focus, lest you join the fallen. She didn’t care. This was her sister. 

She found Palla’s body half hanging off a cliff, arrow still stuck in her side. An ugly trail of blood stained the rocks where Palla must’ve slid down from a higher landing point. Her limbs were all twisted and broken, and it was a wonder they were still attached to the rest of her. She was bleeding still, the red seeping out from underneath her from invisible wounds.

“Palla...”

And yet, she breathed.

”...Ah...”

“Palla?”

Her breathing was weak, and barely enough for her to live on, let alone speak, yet Palla was trying to speak nonetheless.

“Don’t say anything,” Catria said, trying to keep her voice even. “Help will come.”

The priestess was still here. They had mages, they had healers. These wounds were drastic, probably too serious for even the strongest healing spell, but Catria had to try.

“Ah...forgive me, Abel...it doesn’t look like...I’m coming home...”

”...Abel?”

”...”

She wasn’t looking at Catria. She probably couldn’t even see anymore. Catria held her tongue. She was afraid that if she spoke once more, she would no longer be able to hold back tears.

The healers were far. Too far to hear her if she screamed at them. Palla had already fallen by the time the priestess arrived, so they couldn’t know she was here, lying dying at the edge of a cliff. But Catria couldn’t just leave Palla to bleed to death on a rock alone.

A pegasus could, if well-fed and rested, carry two adults with army supplies safely across short distances. For longer trips, such as the distance back to Zofia Harbor, an adult and a child. Two adults would be pushing it, and that was assuming that they were both conscious. A limp body would be heavier. A conscious person could shift weight, was aware of the burden of their bones and muscle. A body was not. 

Catria looked at her own weary pegasus. In this state, it had no chance of carrying the both of them. Palla’s pegasus was gone, presumably spooked by lack of rider, or felled by the pirates’ arrows and countless axes.

The panic settled in again. Catria frantically tried to stop Palla’s bleeding, but she only had so much time, so many supplies. If only she had taken up Maria’s offer to learn the staff, Catria thought. If only that healer that had closed her wounds was here now for Palla.

Sounds of clashing metal and thunder roared on, drawing ever closer. Catria cursed quietly. If she stayed, the fighting would soon engulf her again. 

Palla’s last order had been to stay by her side. But to do that now was to accept death. The body was too heavy, the healers were too far, the battle too close to do anything. Even with the healing magic, she was aching and worn, and she knew for certain that further fighting would invite death. She had one chance now to escape alive, now that the pirates were distracted by the priestess and the magic. 

Catria saddled back on her pegasus, and reluctantly retreated. She cursed her powerlessness, she cursed that arrow which had flown far too true for the skill of its archer, she cursed Grieth.

When she left, Palla was still breathing.

#

When Catria was a child, she had two precious things with her always. She knew she couldn’t take them for granted, she couldn’t take anything for granted in the army, yet she had instinctively thought they would continue to stay by her side. 

And now both of them had been taken from her all at once. It didn’t make sense. Palla was the rational one, and Est was the one with the keen intuition, so Catria had always thought that she would fall before either of them. Yet here she was, clinging to life, her sisters both taken by pirates.

Somehow, she made it back to Zofia Harbor, her pegasus nearly dead on its feet. Palla had paid ahead of time for room at the inn.

The room was filled with Palla’s things.

Palla wasn’t a terribly messy person, but she definitely wasn’t nearly as neat as Catria was. She’d left her old clothes folded on her bed, her notes scattered all over the shared desk. Her various trinkets and good-luck charms, filling up the emptiness. That pendant that she only wore when she knew there would be no battle, hanging off the edge of the chair. That engraving of a pegasus, a gift from both Abel and Est. She had treasured it dearly, yet now was no more than a paperweight. There were a few others that Catria didn’t recognize, and so she didn’t know why Palla would bring them to another continent. 

It was hard to believe that their owner was gone. For all her plans, Palla hadn’t planned much for her own death. Or...maybe she had made plans, but if so, Catria had never learned of them. 

“Forgive me, Abel” — for some reason, at the brink of death, Palla was thinking of him. 

Catria had never been particularly close to Abel. He was a former Altean Knight, and he had been a reliable ally in the War of Shadows. For Catria, that was all he needed to be. 

But Est loved him, and he loved Est. After the War of Shadows, Est ended up retiring from the army to live together with him in Altea, leaving her sisters behind. 

Maybe that was why Catria never really warmed up to Abel. Est had once been a soldier, but she acted like a child, walking away from her duty to open a small shop with her beloved. It was childish, yet Catria couldn’t condemn her. After all, Catria sometimes wished she could do the same, even though she knew she wouldn’t - Commander Minerva needed her, and her country needed to rebuild. She never asked, but she assumed Palla’s reasons for staying in the army were the same. 

Palla seemed to like Abel, though. Est would return to Macedon every few weeks to visit her sisters, and Abel often came with her, and it was always Palla who would greet them both warmly. She would make a point of cleaning the house and preparing her best stew for them, even though Est was objectively the better cook. And though those reunions were for the sake of their sister, Palla always found time to talk to Abel as well, make him feel welcome. Catria thought it a bit unecessary, and but she wasn’t going to say anything about it. Every time, she was simply happy to see Est doing well.

Naturally, Abel was the one to tell them that Est had been kidnapped. She had not come home for several days, and upon questioning the townsfolk, Abel learned that one of the towns she had visited had been attacked by pirates. Palla said that she would do what she could, and Abel left.

“It’s only a rumor,” Palla said. “Hopefully, nothing serious has happened.”

Catria wondered if Palla was saying that to convince herself. At the very least, Catria hoped that nothing had happened to Est - Est was the kind to always get herself into trouble, and it was just her kind of luck to run into pirates in town. But at the same time, Abel was jumping to conclusions. Catria could understand that he was worrying about the woman he loved, yet she couldn’t help but feel he was being a bit dramatic.

Still, Palla poured her all into searching for Est, pushing herself almost to the point of exhaustion. Abel searched in Altea, and Palla searched in Macedon, flying from town to town, day to day. Catria, for her part, took on most of Palla’s work in the army so that her sister could continue the search. But that soon came to an end, once Commander Minerva realized why Palla was disappearing so often. Minerva was a kind commander, and upon listening to their story, allowed both Palla and Catria leave to search for the missing Est.

But in the end, the worst had come to pass. Est had truly been kidnapped, which Palla managed to fish out of one of the few remaining witnesses. The pirates’ vessel had already departed, prisoners in tow, for the continent of Valentia.

Palla and Catria visited Abel at his home to tell him the news. Palla wasn’t even finished telling the whole story before Abel leapt up from his chair, declaring that he would set sail immediately to Valentia. It was Palla who convinced him to stay. He hadn’t had to use a lance since the war ended, and his instincts had dulled. He needed to stay back, protect the house, run the shop. And if anything happened to him, Est would be devastated. 

“Catria and I will search for our sister,” Palla told him. “And we will bring her home with us. That, I promise.”

In the army, you never made promises, for you never could be sure you would be alive and well to keep them after a battle. Especially a heavy promise like this one. But how else could they convince him to stay behind? He was rusty, and he was dear to Est, and his job was to be home when Est returned to him.

Palla had called for him with her last words. 

She always did act a little odd around him, Catria thought. Well, odd enough to make a promise to him when she had never promised Catria much of anything. And it annoyed her. Why him, when Catria had been in danger of dying, when Est was still kidnapped? Why would she ask his forgiveness when she had traveled to another continent so that he wouldn’t have to?

There was no one now who could answer that question for her.

#

Catria returned to the Zofian Coast a few days after the battle, after hearing that the pirates’ stronghold there has fallen. No scouting this time; she already knew that no prisoners had been found here. 

“So, boss? What’re we here for?”

She’d hired a mercenary to accompany her, just in case. It meant she couldn’t fly at full speed, but she had no intentions of pushing her pegasus now anyway.

“Just looking for someone,” Catria said. “Won’t be long now. All you have to worry about is watching my back.”

Catria surprised herself with how calm she sounded. The mercenary nodded, and asked no more questions.

She circled the cliffs a few times, and the memories came back to her. Here, where Palla had given her her final order. Here, where Catria had fought when she heard Palla scream. Here, where Palla fell. There were still a few bloodstains on the rocks.

It was surreal being here when nobody else was around. No pirates, no mages, no priestess swooping in to save the day. But the cliffs were the same, and in this quiet, Catria could even hear the sound of the ocean in the distance.

A lance was embedded in the ground, the soft dirt a few paces away from the cliffside. Palla’s lance. Catria could tell even from the handle, for the lances she’d seen in Valentia looked nothing like her own. A few white flowers had been placed on the ground by the lance’s tip, though they had shriveled and begun to brown.

The priestess must’ve found her after the battle, Catria thought. She must’ve died by then, or was too far gone for even a skilled healer. 

All of Catria’s most outlandish hopes were laid to rest. The hope that the healer would’ve found Palla in time to save her, the hope that the priestess might know of a way to resurrect the dead. 

The only thing left was her lance, which only said, ‘someone died here’. The priestess could not have known her story. How she had dropped everything and sailed to another continent for her little sister’s sake. How she had stood with only Catria by her side, fighting valiantly against an entire army of pirates. For the Valentians, she was nothing more than a foreigner who traveled too deep into the realm of pirates. The priestess probably didn’t even know her name, and so here she lay, marked only by a lance that also didn’t have a name.

That was how all deaths went. The dead were no longer people, merely stories. 

There was a certain structure to the stories of the dead, no matter who it was. A section to celebrate their life. A section honoring those they left behind. A section dedicated to their ideals, to the precious little things that they created, that they defended. Catria wasn’t sure where the custom had begun, but in her time in the army, she had heard the same story again and again. A noble soul, tragically taken too young, a soul who gave their life in defense of something. Someone. A friend. A country. An ideal. Palla was no different. When Catria would inevitably return to Archanea, it would be the story she’d tell.

The story would have to be told in a specific way, cut up and sliced such as to remove all the blemishes. No need to say that Macedon’s most talented pegasus knight had been brought down by a single arrow, shot all-too perfectly. No need to say that her last thoughts were of her kidnapped sister’s future husband. No need to say that Catria had left her, broken but still alive, to die alone on the side of that cliff.

Pretend for a moment, that the battle in which she died was more than a skirmish with pirates. She deserved an end at least a little more dignified than that. Pretend for a moment that she, with the sacrifice of her life, had succeeded in defending something.

And slowly, the story settled into Catria’s skull. She died so that Catria could live, she died for the sake of saving Est. She wasn’t sure if it was true or not. She no longer remembered what she’d personally been doing at the moment Palla fell.

It frightened her, how well she knew her own script already. How neatly Palla’s death had been packaged and put away, to be brought out again when she returned home. She didn’t need the story here. Nobody in Valentia would care about her, and that almost made things easier.

She relaxed. This kind of situation had played out enough in her nightmares that strangely, she felt that she’d been prepared for something like this. 

...there was no way she could go back to Archanea now. Palla had died, but Est was probably still alive, rotting in a dungeon alone somewhere. Did Est even know that her sisters had come for her? Did she still have hope, weeks after her capture, of finding freedom? 

Even now, compared to Est, Catria was perfectly fine. This pain was but a moment, compared to the weeks that Est must’ve suffered through.

So her path was clear. Where Palla had fallen, Catria had to rise. Palla was the rational one, Est was the intuitive one, but Catria had her steadiness, her patience. 

She turned to face the mercenary.

“Alright. We’re done here,” Catria said. “You’ll receive the remainder of your payment when we head back to town.”

“Uh, sure. You sure you won’t need me for anything else? S’not like I did much of anything.”

Catria frowned. An all-too-earnest mercenary. Probably hadn’t been in the business all that long. Or maybe he had just floated above the cynicism she found on most of the men’s faces.

“Maybe I have a job for you in the future,” Catria said. “Are you familiar with a man named Grieth?”

#

She was under the impression that she would not tell Palla or Est’s stories until she had safely returned to Archanea, but that turned out to be a lie. 

The people feared Grieth so, and so all the mercenaries asked why she would fight him. And so she told the story of how she lost a sister to Grieth via kidnapping, and lost another one to his men at the coast. The mercenaries that agreed to help her became enthralled at those tales, and brimmed with anger on her behalf. And soon, despite her best intentions, the tales of the foreign knight became the gossip of the town.

The people who have long suffered under Grieth’s heel rallied to her side. Their anger became her anger, their sorrow reminded her of her own. As the days slipped by, she became more and more resolute in the path she chose. Grieth had to die, both now for Est’s sake, and for the sake of the people here in Zofia and back at home. 

Slowly, as was her specialty, Catria began to form an army. Much too slow for her liking, but she refused to rush things. She hired mercenaries, one by one, to ready an assault. Informants, those who knew the desert, who had seen Grieth’s army and could tell her what kind of men Grieth had. She planned, leafing through Palla’s old notes to tell her what to do, what not to do.

And then, her plans collapsed just as quickly as they had formed. Nobody told her the news directly, because nobody needed to. The gossip had already spread all throughout the harbor.

Grieth was dead. 

The event that all the mercenaries had thought impossible had happened. Grieth’s reign was over, his fortress had fallen, his armies decimated. 

It was the priestess again, and her army of mages and sellswords. It was always the same priestess, the one that had cleared the pirates from the water, and that had saved Catria weeks prior. A young woman by the name of Celica. 

— If Celica had defeated Grieth, then what of Est? Perhaps Celica managed to rescue her? If so, then Est must’ve been terribly confused indeed, having to wander an unfamiliar continent without any friends or family to help her. Catria went back to the streets to see what gossip she could dig up.

That was the beauty of living in the harbor; with the number of people moving in and out each day, you were bound to find someone who knew what you were talking about. And Celica was quite the talk of the town, for good reason. Catria had heard so many people grumble for so long about how it was impossible to stand up to Grieth, yet someone had done that and more. Catria asked around for Celica, and the people she spoke to lit up as soon as she said the name.

She realized she didn’t even need to ask for Celica by name. Catria merely had to bring up ‘the priestess’, and everyone knew. Everyone wanted to talk about the priestess, and Catria found herself drawn in as well. So many people had their stories of the priestess, stories of how she saved people from bandits or gave food to the hungry.

Catria wasn’t quite so enamored by the priestess, if only because of her bitterness. After all, even though Celica was being hailed all throughout the harbor as a hero, she had failed to save Palla. Catria knew that it was a useless bitterness — Celica was in no way at fault — yet she held onto it nonetheless. The weeks had smoothed away the greatest pains, but Catria still remembered how Palla breathed as she left, how the healer had managed to close Catria’s minor wounds from afar, even as Palla lay on the rocks. Even now, it didn’t seem quite fair.

But that wasn’t the story that the townspeople would want to hear. The story needed to be packaged with all the blemishes removed. And so that was the story Catria told. Whenever the people asked why she would look for the priestess, she talked about how she had been cornered by Grieth’s men before Celica and her party came in and saved her. 

Not many had actually seen the priestess since Grieth’s fortress fell, as she had not returned to the harbor in that time. All Catria had were the bits and pieces, stories that had passed from traveler to traveler.

From those whispers, Catria learned that a pegasus knight was now traveling with the priestess. An oddity in Valentia, to the point that the travelers brought it up with her. Pegasi were rare here, usually only reared by the wealthiest of noble families, or so she heard. The travelers thought it was noteworthy because it implied that whatever Celica was doing was important enough to warrant the attention of Zofia’s nobles. Catria’s only concern was whether or not that knight was Est.

It was a real possibility. Back when Palla was alive, she’d expressed the opinion that she thought Est might’ve been already been moved to the depths of Grieth’s fortress, considering how many days had passed since she was taken in Archanea. If Celica had liberated the fortress now, she could have rescued Est, and Est could have joined her. At the very least, she needed to know for certain whether or not Est was safe.

The rumors told her that Celica was headed north, to the Temple of Mila. Catria didn’t know where the Temple of Mila was. That was fine, though. Someone in the harbor was bound to know.

#

Catria had not yet reached the Temple of Mila before learning that Celica had already visited, and departed. The priestess had traveled even further north into Rigel, and Catria didn’t know where she had gone from there.

Catria could not follow. She had gotten used to navigating the Zofian Coast, but she knew nothing of Rigel. In addition, Rigel and Zofia were at war. It was a troubling prospect; if Est was truly traveling with Celica, then Est was currently deep within a warzone, but there wasn’t much Catria could do. Her priority, even above protecting Est, was protecting herself. She wasn’t going to make Palla’s mistakes and leave Est behind.

And so she waited.

She lived in a village set deep in the mountains, living off the charity of the villagers. She had saved a boy from a local bandit with her lance, and so had earned her welcome, but she refused to let herself become comfortable here. 

She only stayed because she couldn’t stay at the inn any longer. The money that Palla had brought to Valentia had dwindled, though she was careful to keep enough coin for a ship’s passage for two (plus pegasi) back to Archanea. For herself, and for Est. 

She had her corner of a room, and she didn’t unpack any more than necessary, so that she could leave quickly as needed. She still carried Palla’s belongings, though she had no use for them. At the very least, something of her dead sister needed to make it back home, she thought. 

She tried, and failed, to make more plans to catch up with Celica. The lack of information paralyzed her. She had no idea what she was doing, Palla was usually the one to come up with ideas and strategies. She wished that she had questioned Palla about it more back when she still could. She still missed her terribly.

And so she waited. 

Eventually, she ended up telling the villagers about her sister’s story. How Est was kidnapped by pirates, how Palla then sacrificed herself for her sisters’ sakes. The lies mixed in so easily with the truth, and by now Catria had nearly forgotten which was which.

#

Catria heard about the celebration before she learned why they were celebrating. It was near the season’s end and the weather had grown warm, and the normally quiet village streets were swarming with whispers of gossip.

She wasn’t sure if she could count it as a miracle. The news seemed almost incredible. The priestess Celica turned out to have been Zofia’s long-lost princess. And she was to wed the crown prince of Rigel, ending the war and unifying the continent. The gods that shaped this land were were gone now, to usher in a new era of mankind. At least, that was how the story went. Catria was fairly certain that some of the blemishes had been carefully edited out.

— she couldn’t judge, though. She had seen firsthand how the stories of war mutated out of control. She’d lived through the War of Shadows, and less than a year later already some of it had begun to be corrupted. Even the memories of important battles had worn down like sand. This war in Valentia seemed no different.

She did not care for the war, for this was not her land. She only cared that Celica had returned home, and that her group had returned with her. The village celebrated the return of their dear princess. As she had prepared, Catria slipped away from the festivities, quickly packed the few things she had, and departed for Zofia Castle.

Catria got lucky. There was no ceremony at the moment, and the castle town’s gates were open. She easily found the priestess in white, mingling among the people at the castle.

She really did carry herself like a princess, Catria thought. Elegant, refined, and completely inscrutable. No doubt the future of this land was a giant weight to bear. Yet at the same time, the priestess talked and laughed and celebrated like everyone else, almost blending into the crowd. It seemed almost inappropriate to disturb her.

But before Catria was able to slip away, the priestess smiled at her, and waved her over.

“You’re that pegasus knight...I’m sorry, I don’t quite remember your name,” Celica said. “I think we met once at the harbor, and we crossed paths once on the coast. It’s a relief to see you alive and well.”

“Yes. My name’s Catria. I’m impressed you remember me.”

At that, Celica’s face flickered in a momentary sadness. “How could I forget? If only we had been stronger...if we’d arrived just a bit sooner...your sister would still be with us. I’m so sorry, Catria.”

Catria realized she couldn’t be angry at Celica. Palla was but a stranger to the priestess, yet it was clear that her death had always weighed on her mind. In that case, Celica must’ve thought of everyone she saved, everyone she failed to save. She had risked her life to battle pirates all along Zofia, to the point of even taking out Grieth, only motivated by the kindness in her heart.

“It’s okay,” Catria said, though it wasn’t entirely okay. “It’s the nature of battle. She died protecting something.” She wasn’t sure if she was telling the truth anymore, but Celica nodded.

“You’re from Archanea, aren’t you?” Celica said. “Remind me again, what brought you all the way to Valentia?”

The story came out again, naturally this time. But it felt odd telling it to a princess, a princess that had witnessed part of it no less. Catria stumbled over the words sometimes, and she didn’t bother to hide as many of the ugly parts. She said truthfully how Palla brought her here, how they fought pirates. She told the princess how Palla had fallen, and how she had waited in vain for Celica to notice that Palla was still alive. 

“Oh no...I’m so sorry,” Celica said. “By the time we found her, she was already —”

“Yes. I know. I saw her lance at the coast. Did you do that?”

”...we didn’t know her name. I didn’t know any other way to honor her. I’m sorry. I’m sure you would’ve wanted to let her rest in your homeland.”

“We never had any expectation of that. Being a soldier means having to accept death. It’s not like I’d care what happens to my body after I die.”

Catria realized she was being cruel. Celica didn’t need to hear this, didn’t need to know how close it had really been. But once Catria started telling the story, she could no longer stop. She talked about why she stayed, first to find a way to defeat Grieth, then to make sure Est wouldn’t have to go home alone.

“Oh, Est!” Celica’s eyes widened, and she smiled a bit for the first time. “I thought she seemed familiar.”

“You know the name?”

“Yes. We found her in Grieth’s fortress. She’s been traveling with us since then.” 

“Truly?”

Celica nodded, but then her expression fell. “Oh, so she’s your...I knew she was from Archanea, but I’m ashamed to admit I never made the connection. I should have tried to reunite you. I’m sorry for all the hardship I caused you.”

“She wouldn’t have known that Palla and I were here,” Catria replied. “Nothing you could’ve done there.”

“Still, I feel bad. She offered to fight for me after we rescued her, and I ended up putting her in a lot of danger.”

That sounded like such an Est thing to do. Go up and take up a lance even though she was retired, and fight for a priestess of another land across two countries at war. It was so terribly irresponsible.

But maybe, just maybe, that was what Catria should have convinced Palla to do. If they had been with Celica, then maybe...

“Where is Est now? Is she okay?” Catria asked. A question she’d been afraid to ask, because she was afraid of what the answer might be. Est might’ve offered to fight based on her prior experience as a soldier, but Catria knew how quickly those skills and instincts faded. She prepared herself for the worst.

Those fears were quickly scattered when Celica smiled.

“Yes. She’s fine. She’s probably somewhere around town, actually...I heard she was going shopping with some of the others. I’ll definitely tell her to look for you if I find her, though.”

“Thank you.”

Catria bade the princess farewell, and went to go find her sister.

#

She was worried for a moment how she would find Est when the entire castle town seemed to be bustling with activity. She realized very quickly that she needn’t have worried. The weeks she’d spent in Valentia were long, but not so long that she could no longer recognize her sister.

Est looked as she remembered her, vibrant and smiling and full of life, though time had inevitably changed her a bit. She was thinner than Catria remembered, and her pink hair had grown longer and more disheveled. Catria had no idea how Est had suffered when she was imprisoned under Grieth, nor what kinds of battles she could have gotten into when working for Celica. But seeing her here, it was easy to pretend that nothing had happened at all. 

She didn’t dare approach. Est was deep in some other conversation, laughing and talking to people that Catria had never met. It felt a little strange just being here, when everyone was celebrating the return of a princess and the end of a war. Est, too, was celebrating, and Catria didn’t want to get in the way of that. 

But in the end —

“Catria? Is that you?!”

— She thought she should’ve expected that Est would notice her there. Est was always the perceptive one, after all. 

Even so, Catria wasn’t prepared. She froze at the sight of Est’s face, unsure if she should approach, if she should wait for Est to come to her, if she should disappear so Est could continue talking to her newfound friends. She watched as Est cycled through several different facial expressions. First disbelief, then confusion, then doubt, then disbelief again. And then Catria couldn’t see her face at all, for Est was running straight at her. 

“Catriaaaaaa! It is you! Do you know how much I missed you?!”

Before she could react, Est threw her arms around her.

“Wha—? Hey, hold on a moment, you’re crushing me!”

Est let go and hopped backwards. “Sorry! Sorry, I kinda got really excited there. Wait, Catria, what in the world are you doing here in Valentia? Aren’t you still in the army?”

“You were kidnapped by pirates, Est. Commander Minerva gave me leave to come out here to find you,” Catria replied. “You’ve really caused us a lot of worry, you know...and I heard you ran off and picked up the lance again.”

“Ehehe, that miiiiight’ve happened,” Est said. “But hey, in my defense, Celica had saved my life! What was I supposed to do, leave without thanking her? Oh, but listen, so much has happened in the past few days! We ended up fighting so many Terrors, and then we went and fought another dragon, and — uh, Catria? Are you okay? You’re making kind of a scary face, there...”

“No, it’s nothing. Never mind me, I’m just so relieved you’re alright. I should go and give Celica my thanks, again.”

“Oh! Since you’re here, you might as well stay for the coronation. She’s the princess, you know that? Not every day you get to see a celebration like this!”

”...and make Abel wait for you even longer? Do you even realize how long you’ve been gone?”

Est made a face. “I know, but...well, you’re right. Abel must still be running the store by himself, and I guess you left Palla by herself back in Macedon, too, so we should hurry back...uh, Catria?”

An awkward silence. Catria frowned, unable to bring herself to say anything. Est was happy now, and Catria desperately wanted to avoid ruining that happiness.

”...Catria?” Est’s voice softened. “Hey, did something happen? You look like you’re about to cry. Wait, Catria...? Hey, say something! What happened?!”

And now Est looked like she was about to cry. She was a child, but she was a perceptive child, and she must’ve been able to guess.

“Catria? It’s about Palla, isn’t it? Or...wait, did something happen to Abel?”

“I’m sorry. It’s a long story, and not suited for the public ear. Maybe when it quiets down some?” Catria was surprised at how even her voice was. She was barely holding back tears, yet she could remain calm if she forced herself to. “I’ll stay for the new emperor’s coronation with you.”

“Alright,” Est said. “You sure?”

Catria nodded. She would explain to Abel when they got home, if she needed to. Est needed time to say goodbye to her new friends. Catria needed time to prepare the story.

The story must be packaged in a certain way, free of all its blemishes. Packaged in such a way to honor the dead, and carefully put away all the unpleasant memories. Packaged to avoid offense, to negate the pain.

But Est was too perceptive for that. She still acted like a child sometimes, but she had once been a soldier, and now she had fought in two wars. She was stronger than Catria would like to admit.

And so, Catria started the long work of unraveling the truth of her memories from the lies she’d gotten used to saying, so that she may finally tell the story of her dead elder sister.

**Author's Note:**

> If you let either Palla or Catria die in their recruit mission, the other just never shows up again. But you can still recruit Est. Maybe I was thinking too hard about that, and what the surviving sister would even do in that case.
> 
> On a totally different subject, the idea of the resurrection springs in Fire Emblem Echoes fascinates me. Do you need a body to revive someone, or do they get a new body out of thin air? Do Alm and Celica's armies just cart around the bodies of their dead companions in case they find a spring...?
> 
> Anyway, I once had the outline of an irreverent sequel to this, which involved resurrection springs, Celica being unfortunately helpful, and some extreme grave robbing. I don't know where it went, nor do I think I'd revisit it, but the mental image was strong enough that this remains.


End file.
